


Five Star Accommodations

by waterfallliam



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Coda, Episode s02e04: Duet, Kissing, M/M, Other Characters Are Mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-04 21:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21204740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterfallliam/pseuds/waterfallliam
Summary: This late at night the infirmary is quiet, the slow beep beep of the machines hushing in awe of the starry sky above. Sweeping the curtain out of the way, John settles into the chair at Rodney’s bedside.Coda for Duet where John visits Rodney in the infirmary.





	Five Star Accommodations

To say that seeing Rodney, or rather it had been Cadman, kiss Beckett was a surprise is an understatement.

The cock of his hip, the single finger—those were definitely not Rodney. When he speaks with his hands, which is often, they’re forces of nature pointing and snapping, getting right up in John’s personal space, not leaving a finger behind. It had been clear: it wasn’t Rodney in control at that moment.

But the rough grab of Beckett’s lapels, the frown of concentration as he kissed him… those are seared into John’s mind. He wants to know what it feels like, to be pulled close along the heat of Rodney’s body, the singular focus of all of his attention.

This late at night the infirmary is quiet, the slow beep beep of the machines hushing in awe of the starry sky above. Sweeping the curtain out of the way, John settles into the chair at Rodney’s bedside. It’s one of the ones with armrests, letting him easily prop his feet up on the end of Rodney’s bed and lean back, settling in for the night. In fact…

Using nothing but his most sneaky soldier skills, he pilfers a pillow that Rodney is not currently laying on and wedges it between him and the back of the chair. Comfy as a clam, all that’s left is to remove the small bar of chocolate from his pocket before it melts.

Fingers interlocked and splayed across his stomach, his eyelids droop, the gentle lull of the machines calming as the tide.

“Sheppard.” A rough hiss jolts him awake, his surroundings taking precious seconds to register. There’s an insistent finger poking at his knee.

“What?” He smacks his lips, wishing he could reach for the glass he keeps by his bed.

Rodney blinks at him, hands clenched around the thin infirmary sheets, eyes large in the otherworldly glow of the infirmary at rest.

“Finally. Are we in danger?”

“No.” He isn’t sure where the question is coming from. He narrows his eyes.

Rodney huffs in relief. “Water?”

“One sec.” He’s stiff as he hefts himself up, rolling his shoulder through the ominous way it cracks. There’s a cart with a pitcher and glasses nearby, he’s back in under a minute, placing them on the table.

Rodney looks hard pressed propping himself up on one elbow, slipping around more than actually managing to lever himself upright. Holding the back of his head so he can tip the glass against his lips is as automatic as sweeping a room or checking the rear-view mirror before driving. The nape of his neck is warm beneath his fingers, his short hair surprisingly soft under his thumb.

Giving him a bewildered look, Rodney gulps the water down in long, greedy bobs of his Adam’s apple. When the glass is empty, he reluctantly pulls away to pour another.

Rodney waves him off. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you stole one of my pillows.”

John takes a few sips himself, then sets the glass down on the table again. He shrugs as he sits. “You’re weren’t using it.”

“I was asleep! I tend to roll about a bit, so I probably would have used it. It’s bad enough I have to sleep _here _without… without pillow thievery!”

John suppresses a snort. “I’ll steal from someone else next time.”

“Good, that’s good.” Rodney leans back down onto a now full set of pillows, curling his arm around the one under his head protectively. “What are you doing here anyway?”

The need to be close to him is an awful hum under his skin, making his bed too scratchy, the night time too full of the same moment looping over and over in his mind. Rodney almost dying, fists clenched around lapels, eyes squeezed shut, the small wet sound as they broke apart.

“I came to check up on you.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Rodney’s mouth. “And the five star accommodations were just impossible to pass up?”

John rolls his eyes, knocking his knee against Rodney’s through the sheets.

“No prison break, I assume.” Rodney looks mournful.

“First thing tomorrow, McKay.”

Rodney hums, wriggling around to get comfier. A futile task, as John remembers.

“Are there any blankets where that water came from?”

John squints. There’s not, but on the next bed over, a patch of green looks like it could be. Feet firmly on the ground again, knocking back on the chair’s hind legs is easy. He only fumbles a little, grabbing hold of a soft corner. Thinking about it, Beckett or one of the nurses might have even left it for him, suspecting he’d come by.

He turns back. Rodney is making grabby motions with his hands.

For a second, John imagines them reaching for him instead, curling into his t-shirt, dragging him close. Scrunched into his hair, tugging him down. He’d be warmer than the blanket, just as snuggly, a bit heavier probably—

“Give it here,” Rodney whines.

John smirks. “Want me to tuck you in?”

“I’ve had a harrowing past few days, I’m exhausted, I’m uncomfortable, can we just—”

John interrupts by throwing the blanket at him like a frisbee, landing against his chest with a soft thump. Rodney’s momentary surprise is the perfect opening he needs to slip his feet back on the bed, inching his chair closer so that he can have more, rather than less, of the solid mattress beneath him.

“Can… you not,” Rodney says, glaring.

All the same, he makes sure the blanket covers his boots, even going so far as to tuck it under his legs in careful, measured movements, burritoing John in with him. He looks so snug and warm, cocooned in the soft fabric. This isn’t too far off from what it would be like if they shared a bed. John crosses his arms, palms flat against his ribs.

“Comfy?” John wiggles his legs a little, just to get a rise.

“Yes, yes.” He looks between John and the table, a small frown creasing his face.

John doesn’t mind being a mystery most of the time, would rather be underestimated than caught out. He’s one of the few people Rodney can stand, likes even, but it’s nothing more than that. And he’s alright with that. He’s alright with his heart squirming in his chest where only he can feel the way it contorts itself into impossible shapes. He’s content with late-night daydreams that bleed into staff meetings or quiet moments in the jumper. Or at least he had been, until he saw Cadman-as-Rodney kiss Beckett.

“You brought me chocolate? Why? How did you sneak it past Carson?” A grin blooms on his face. Not the giddy, radiant mid-discovery event, but softer, and just for John.

He chooses to answer the last question. “Beckett’s gone to bed. It’s the middle of the night.”

“Of course it is.” Rodney drags a hand down his face, examines the bar. “Is this what you chose to bring back from Earth, snacks?”

John shrugs with his eyebrows. “Not only.” He’d also packed the rest of his t-shirts he’d had stashed, his skateboard, a couple of six packs, insoles for Teyla…

A hand snakes out of the blanket cocoon, snatching up the bar and retreating. He hears the snap of chocolate, a rustle of foil. The pleased noise that follows next is not wholly unexpected, but the way it morphs into a moan is.

He feels his face flush, something stirring low in his stomach. Now isn’t the time.

“This is good stuff. Really good stuff.” Rodney’s whole head peeks out again, hair sticking up at odd angles. The renewed scrutiny he is looking at him with has him shifting in his seat.

“You’ve never brought me chocolate before.”

John looks at his feet. He’s stayed with him before, like how he’s sat with Teyla and Ford, making sure they smile at least once before visiting hours are over. But then, he’d stayed with Rodney longer, or had slunk in for a few hours at night, needing more than the abstract knowledge that he was safe. The idea that Rodney hasn’t noticed, is with hindsight, a bit farfetched.

There’s another rustle of foil, and John watches as Rodney slips another square into his mouth. This time the noise he makes is even louder. He’d checked with Beckett—Rodney isn’t on any painkillers. Maybe the chocolate really is that good.

“You should have some, too.”

Instead of breaking off a piece to land in his palm, Rodney is holding one out to him. Their fingers brush in a brief, featherlight collision.

“Thanks.” The chocolate is dark and rich. It all but melts on his tongue.

He licks the remaining smears off his fingertips for good measure, pulling his index finger out with a wet pop. Maybe it is moan worthy. He would need another piece to know for sure, he decides.

But Rodney is putting the chocolate next the glass, spare foil folded over, saving it for later.

“You have…” John gestures at his own mouth. There’s a smudge of chocolate along his bottom lip. John wants to kiss him until it’s gone. He bites his tongue. There’s so little space between them.

Rodney licks his lips, broad swipes that has John’s stomach coiling in on itself. “Better?”

“No, there’s still—”

He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches forward, catching Rodney’s jaw with his fingers. Carefully, he runs his thumb along the spot, tracing the line of Rodney’s lower lip at the same time.

“John?” Rodney’s voice is quiet, barely more than breath, hot against his skin.

He’s still, but he’s not moving away, or talking. In fact, he’s slowly drifting more fully into John’s grip.

The slant of his mouth has never looked more inviting.

He leans in slowly, waiting for the penny to drop. He kisses the corner of Rodney’s mouth shyly.

A hand curls around his shoulder, sure and strong. “I was right.”

John is so close he has to cross his eyes to see Rodney’s face. “What?

Right about what? His sexuality? His a-bit-too-serious-to-be-a-crush feelings? His preference for cheesy pizza over any other fast food?

“About this.” Rodney has the audacity to smirk, the sting of it dulled by his joyous open-mouthed grin a heartbeat later, but smug all the same. Then he’s leaning in, kissing John full on the mouth. It’s hot and filthy, like he’s been holding himself back, pent up lust trapped in a buffer. Kissing like this, he’s right to be smug—not that John will tell him so.

His hand slips down, finding its way back to the soft hairs at the nape of Rodney’s neck. He catches Rodney’s lower lip between his teeth, savouring the moment, the heat of his mouth, the taste of him.

A needy noise slips out when Rodney nudges him back, his other hand on John’s hip. Rodney is everywhere, manoeuvring him, controlling the pace, chasing every last coherent thought away. It’s Rodney’s confidence that gets to John, low and needy between his legs, the same competence he displays in the lab or with that damn tablet he’s always tapping on. It’ll take some time, but soon he’ll have all of John’s buttons figured out, know exactly how to make him melt. He’s heady with it, Rodney’s grip, his attention, the promise woven into every swipe of his tongue.

“Hey.” Rodney sounds winded.

“Wow,” John says the first thing that comes to mind—at least it hadn’t been _cool_. “So, you like men?”

“Yes, I do.” Rodney swoops in for another kiss, quick and chocolatey.

John’s heart is running boot camp drills in his ribcage. “You like _me_?”

“No, this is just a casual thing I do with all my friends.”

He considers Rodney kissing Zelenka or Hermiod. Rodney is right, he probably wouldn’t.

“Just want to be sure.” The words come out more desperate than wry, his sincerity suddenly too great to remain confined. Because that’s what he is. Serious about Rodney. He traces the line of his clavicle with his thumb, suddenly unable to look directly at him. “You like me enough to go on a date with me?”

Rodney rests his forehead against John’s temple. “Very much definitely so.”

“Good,” John smiles.

He turns his head for another kiss, sloppy and needy. Then he’s being dragged closer, Rodney’s clever fingers hooked around his belt, better than any fantasy.

It’s slower than before, the initial rush of this-is-actually-happening sublimating into a more relaxed ebb and flow of tiny hellos. It’s less overwhelming. John can take his time sprawled half across Rodney’s lap, tracing his nose up the line of his throat, kissing him from the corner of his handsome jaw all the way back across his cheek to his waiting smile.

“C’mere,” Rodney grunts, tugging him onto the narrow hospital bed. The process is a bit of a mess, until finally they’re both settled, fit together like cutlery in a drawer.

He’s worried one of them will fall off, but Rodney wraps the blanket around them more fully. John’s face is pressed comfortably into the crook of his neck, his hand in the ideal position the fit Rodney’s hip against his palm.

“You still have your boots on.”

John supresses the huff welling up in him. “I could get up and take them off…”

“No, no, I’ll survive,” Rodney sighs. He presses a kiss against the tip of John’s nose.

John hooks one of his legs over Rodney’s in response, dragging his heel along the back of his pants before coming to a comfortable stop.

“I’m not having sex in the infirmary, just so we’re clear.”

John pulls a face. It isn’t an appealing prospect. Somewhere private, on the other hand… “We won’t be here forever.”

Rodney pulls back enough to give him a look that can only be described as hungry.

“All the more reason to get enough sleep for Beckett to give you the all clear tomorrow,” John says, pressing his face back into Rodney's shirt. 

He hears a tut before Rodney gives his ass a playful squeeze.

“Hey, I’m trying to sleep here McKay,” but he’s smiling.

If Rodney replies, he doesn't hear, far too busy focusing on the soothing circles Rodney is rubbing into his lower back; the slow rise and fall of his broad chest a reassuring counterpoint to the faint noise of the machines.

With any luck, this won’t be the last time he falls asleep in Rodney’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> John's jealousy strikes again, haha. For some reason, out of all the little incomplete drabbles I've been jotting down while watching, this idea just wouldn't leave me alone, so I finished it up to post. Hope it's been enjoyable :)


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